


The Sea Calls Us Home

by elrondhalfelven



Series: Of Elrond Peredhel [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bonding, Comfort, Family, Father-Son Relationship, First Age, Fluff, Rivendell | Imladris, Sirion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrondhalfelven/pseuds/elrondhalfelven
Summary: Elrond has but a few cherished memories of his father and childhood homeland, yet he remembers the quiet thrashing of the seas upon the shore and the distinctive smell of salt entwined with his shadow-dark hair. The seashells preserve such recollections.
Series: Of Elrond Peredhel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185962
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Sea Calls Us Home

The water was bitterly cold against his bare feet and pinched at benumbed toes before receding into the sands, as a sheen of ice when met with the beginnings of spring. Shivering with both the wintry chill and a child-like delight which accompanies momentary surprise, Elrond waded further into the glimmering ocean, dampening the hemmed fabric of his leggings whilst doing so. Jovially, he played the game of the waves; dancing on the tips of his feet backwards when the water lashed out and pursuing it eagerly when it accepted the need for retreat. In this way he flitted about for the best part of the afternoon, mirthful exclamations escaping his parted lips when tiny feet and ankles became submerged in times of short-lived unawareness. A deep, sombre laugh resounded from behind him as his father caught him in an embellished sea-green towel, wrapping it around his shoulders. Elrond traced the nautical creatures that were embroidered onto it with a pale finger as his father rubbed his legs warm with a second cloth, humming a wordless tune as he did so. 

Eventually, the tune faltered and his father rose, holding out a weathered hand to take Elrond’s own- still made smooth by baby fat. Clutching at his father’s forefinger they walked; Elrond capering along in an effort to keep pace with his father whilst demonstrating his jubilance. Around them, the canvas of the evening sky had become illustrated with flourishes of scarlet, with only the waters keeping the flames of amber that burned in the horizon at bay. 

“Sailor’s warning.” Elrond whispered to himself, anxiously glancing up at his brooding Father. Searching the face of his sire and finding no solace, Elrond turned his eyes to the sand beneath his naked feet; a copious bed of gold, made richer by the passing of the waves over its pale surface. Scrunching his feet into the grains, he tugged on the arm that held him as a glimmer of light upon the surface caught his attention. 

A seashell, of the same size as his father’s course hand, gleamed in the last rays of sunlight before the rising of the moon. It was the colour of faded coral and purest ivory, the same pearly texture as his mother’s beads; yet the shape was more refined and intricately carved, as though it had been dragged and eroded by a tumultuous sea but such a fate had only served to further its beauty. Entranced, Elrond twisted his arm free of his father’s grasp and fell to his knees in front of it, burrowing his hands into either side of the sand until his fingers had touched the bottom of the embedded treasure and he had carefully brought it to the surface. He held the shell in cupped hands and sat admiring its elegance with a contented smile glowing upon his face, as though the sun had touched his fea and shone within him. A rough hand tapped him lightly upon the shoulder as his sire came to one knee beside him, gaze flickering between Elrond and the trifle that had brought such delight to his little heart. 

“May I?” His father asked him, palm laid flat to receive the trinket. “I wish only to see it.” 

Nodding, Elrond placed the seashell very carefully into the centre of the outstretched palm; nerves fluttering within his belly at the thought of damage coming to something so exquisite. 

“You can hear the sea through it.” Elrond watched as his father brought the treasure to one ear, closing his eyes slightly and falling into silence. He shuffled slightly upon the sand as he waited for his father to return to the present, eager to hear for himself the noises that his sire so intently listened to. At length, the mariner opened his eyes and Elrond wriggled with anticipation as the trinket was brought to his own ear.

“Listen.” He was told, and Elrond mimicked the older man as he clenched his eyes tightly closed and strained his ear against the seashell, lips parted with awe. The quiet thrashing of the waves upon the shore was echoed within the shell, but as something gentler and more fair; a tender song of an ever-still sea which entwined itself with a chorus of seabirds cries and the rushing of the sand as it was pulled by the waters, to create a raw melody which was made homely by its being so distinctly Sirion. Laughing in merriment, Elrond pulled the shell away from his ear and cradled it in his arms, holding it next to his heart. His shadow-dark hair, windswept and salty-smelling, was pulled back from his eyes by his father’s hand as he got to his feet once more, sighing distantly as he imagined the reactions of his mother and twin brother when they too heard the sound.

ooooooooooooooo

Humming a wordless tune to himself, Elrond sighed contentedly as he arranged his collection of seashells upon the mahogany window ledge of his new abode. Each and every one of the daintily patterned and palely coloured treasures he held dear to his heart, but there was none more significant nor fairer than that which he had not parted from since the very beginning. He remembered the rare smile it had evoked from his mother when her young son had beseeched her to listen to the noises within; In his mind's eye he could see distinctly the proud gaze of his father as he requested to return to the waters once more on the morrow. Verily, Elrond did not forget the way that he had hugged the seashell to his chest when his Father had departed forever, nor did the memories leave his mind of the nights where he, a child discomforted in a strange and unfamiliar territory, had brought the trinket to his ear to quell his yearning for his parents and his home; both lost to him forever. Running a slender finger over the curves and outlines of the seashell, he placed it carefully in the centre of the wide beam of varnished wood, where the morning sunlight filtered through the tall bay window and caught the gleaming seashell in its light once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was wholly inspired by a thread between myself and lesbian-elrond on tumblr.


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